


The Negative

by jeagerism



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Armin Likes Teasing You, Basically The Reader And Armin Are Friends That Kiss, College Student Armin Arlert, Debate Talk, Debate!Armin Arlert, F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Modern Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Older Armin Arlert, sort of established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 05:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30083850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeagerism/pseuds/jeagerism
Summary: Armin's always had your devotion, even when he couldn't shut his mouth.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Reader
Kudos: 20





	The Negative

**Author's Note:**

> first armin fic !!! will be cross posted on tumblr, @jeagerism , ummmm i'll probably write a pt.2 that's just smut lolzie

“I call this debate to order.”

Your eyes jump from the index cards in your hands to the administrator at the front of the room, rolling your shoulders back in preparation. _It’s a practice debate_ , you have to remind yourself. The irregular beating of your heart isn’t slowed, palms slightly sweaty, leg jumping in nervousness. _A practice debate._

“Seated on my right are the affirmative debaters, namely, their first speaker, Colt Grice, and their second debater, Y/N L/N.” The moderator nods their head in your direction, and you can feel all the eyes in the room shift to you and your partner. “To my left, and supporting the negative side, are it’s first speaker, Reiner Braun, and it’s second debater, Armin Arlert.”

When you switch your gaze from the front to the opposing side, your eyes meet cobalt blues right away. 

A practice debate, but against Armin Arlert, it meant as much as any official match.

The curve of hair against his forehead shifts as he tilts his head, unwavering gaze trained on your spot at the table. He’s got his hands clasped together atop his own desk, slim wrists shown from underneath the sleeves of his white button up. He looks...nice. A weird feeling claws at your stomach when other words for just how nice he  _ really _ looks come to mind.

You suppose you’d always held a certain admiration for Armin. What with the way he seemed to be every professor's favorite, or the pinpoint amazing grades he kept every semester. Maybe it was the way your TA from last semester’s chemistry class, Erwin, had talked so highly of him and the way he went about his life. 

So you’d harboured a slight sort of awe every time he walked by, or every time his name was mentioned. The pretty shade of his eyes and soft looking strands of hair did nothing but add to that feeling, especially when you’d talked to him for the first time. Armin had been nothing but perfect that time, and every time after that. He’d been the reason you’d joined debate club anyways; it gave you a chance to talk to him every Tuesday and Thursday, and looked good on applications for internships.

And that gentle, quiet admiration for him grew. And grew, and grew, until you were hiding the smile that sealed your cheeks when you were around him, calming the pitter patter of your heart every time he said your name. You wanted to make him laugh, and listen to any story he had to tell you. You were enamoured by him, you could hardly look away.

Then the debating started. Which you’d come prepared for, of course. But there was also a certain anxiety that came with arguing your point against the blond himself. He was good at it, and of course he was, because Armin Arlert was good at everything. Seeing him defend his side of an argument was akin to watching a single flame spark into a fire. You held onto every smirk and click of his teeth during every speech, the way his fingers seemed to itch in anticipation for his rebuttal. He was the debate club’s golden boy, a poster child for getting new members to join your little group.

Which is why you longed to win against him so badly. He was great, more than great, and every part of you wanted to reach every point that he continued to surpass.

And you suppose that starts now.

“Each debater will make a three minute construcutive speech, and later a three minute official rebuttal period to attack his, her, or their opponents’ argument. I will grant debaters the right to speak by introducing them, and they may then hold forth until either they sit down, or I demand they relinquish the floor, whichever occurs first.”

In any other debate you’ve participated in since joining, you’ve never gone against him. You’ve been on his team, side by side, giving him a reassuring nod, even if he didn’t need it. He’d win, so he probably  _ didn’t _ need your affirmations, but he always accepted them anyways, a gentle smile pulling at that dimple in his cheek.

Things are different now. You sit up straight in your chair, the droning of the moderator a familiar tune you’ve grown accustomed to in the past few months. Armin’s eyes haven’t left your own, and when you raise your eyebrows, corners of your lips lifting into a barely there grin, he returns it with a quirk of his own brows, wetting his lips. He looks like he’s going to do something else, but the next sentence from the moderator’s lips have his head turning.

“I call upon the first affirmative debater to deliver his constructive speech, including a definition of the terms in the resolution. If the affirmative team desires to introduce a plan,” they speak, body completely facing you and Colt, “it must be completely described during this address.” 

Colt turns to you, shuffling his cards together neatly. “Good luck,” you murmur, following his path up to the podium in between the tables, front and center of the spacious club room. He begins his speech with a smile, words clear and concise as he begins revealing his stance on the argumentative topic you’d been given earlier that week. 

Despite the focus you have on your teammates talking, your body is hyper aware of the eyes on you.

Armin had always been a friend. Something simple, something you could put a neat little label on, and stick it in the corner of your mind. He’d introduced you to Eren and Mikasa as his  _ “friend from debate club” _ , and you’d done the same for him upon his first meeting with Porco and Annie. Friends was a good word. Sure, one that made your stomach twist at times when you’d see someone lay a flirting hand on his shoulder, but one that you could live with nonetheless.

He’d been the one to tease you whenever you’d tripped over your words during a speech, but was just as quick to spend an entire afternoon helping you commit it to memory. He liked getting to class before you to grab the seat right next to the one you liked. He’d been a friend, until he hadn’t really, your relationship trapped in this weird limbo of teasing remarks and lingering hugs. Either way, he was in your life, and had your heart clenched ruthlessly in those pretty hands of his.

So maybe he had a habit of holding your hands, and maybe he’d kissed you a few times before letting you walk into a class you had without him. Maybe you stuck to his side like glue at parties, and were with him more than anyone else. But he’d been your friend, before that, and you’d never figured out if your relationship had jumped to a next level, or had stayed stuck in between.

You suck a quiet breath between your teeth, allowing yourself a peek in his direction as Colt finishes addressing the judges. He’s smiling now, shoulders shaking as you squint your eyes at him. Leaning back into his seat, he tilts his head at you, nodding his head to the front of the room.

“Thank you, Mr. Grice. We shall now hear the constructive address of the first negative debater.” As your teammate begins his journey back to your desks, Reiner stands, shuffling from between the table and chair to make his way to the podium. Armin mumbles something to him from the other side of the room, giving the taller male a thumbs up.

“Hey,” Colt retakes his seat beside you, laying his cards flat against the table. Unlike you, he’d gone against both Reiner and Armin multiple times, and if Armin was the best, Colt was surely a runner up. “Still nervous about going against Arlert?”

“Very. I don’t think my hands have shaken this much since...freshman orientation.” Swallowing the lump of nerves swelled in the back of your throat, you shrug your shoulders slightly. “It’ll be fine. I’ve just gotta not throw up in front of everyone and embarrass myself. Easy, right?”

He chuckles quietly, nudging your leg with his own. “You’ll do just fine. I believe in you.”

You murmur a grateful thanks to the boy sitting on your left, turning your focus to Reiner as he starts his own address. 

Time goes by quickly, the only noise being the sound of your opponent’s words, the quiet click of the time keepers watch, and the scratching of Colt’s pencil as he takes notes for his rebuttal. Each second that ticks by only makes your hands sweatier, leg still jumping about as a visual representation of your nerves. You almost wished you’d had Armin to coach you through this one, too. He was never this nervous about debates, always taking whatever happened in stride, solving any mishaps in a flash. 

“I call upon the second affirmative debater to deliver their constructive remarks.” 

Colt taps your arm in quiet support, watching as you gather your index cards and stand. “You got this, yeah?” The screech of the chair moving against the wooden floor makes you wince, but release a quiet laugh at the choked snort you hear from who you’re sure is Armin himself. Another few titters arise before coming to a stop.

The few steps there go by far quicker than you wish, and eventually you’re standing in front of the entire club, knees knocking together and heart lodged in your throat. Glancing down at your hands, you check to assure your cards are in the right order, then recheck, and then recheck again. 

When you move your sights back up, you find Armin’s gaze immediately. He’s still smiling, but it's so warm and reassuring that you straighten your posture, clear your throat, and begin speaking. The lilt of your voice is quiet and unstable at first, but steadies out as you continue, words coming across with clear diction. Before you know it, your time is up, and you’re retracing your steps back to your seat. Colt gives you a giant smile, even bumping his fist against yours when you relax into your chair. 

Armin takes the stand next, diving into his oration as soon as he reaches the podium. Even going against him, it’s easy to be hooked on the way he speaks, the confident deliverance of words leaving you silent. His speech rips through the group of people just as it always does; the judges nod their heads along with his statements. He wraps his conclusion up with a polite smile, and allows the moderator to move on with the rebuttals of Reiner and Colt.

The back and forth between the two males lasts for a handful of minutes, before the moderator steps in, forcing Colt to relinquish the floor, and ending the primary speakers’ final debate. 

Which means it’s your turn to face Armin, take every witty remark and criticism into consideration before giving your own right back.

From your place across from him, you can see the blue of his eyes clearly, sunlight coming through the windows in sliced pieces. 

“The negative debater, Armin, has stated that our affirmative has taken the wrong approach to this, and have brought about reasoning as to why this study shows its detriment to university students in finding their place in the campus community.” You can feel a swell of pride in your chest, catching the look Reiner throws at Armin’s back from his place at their table. “However, there are many examples of this, for instance the recent study at Columbia University, where the study results taken from students attending the school proves the affirmative argument. That this case makes forward progress.” You throw out another remark, refuting the previous arguments Armin had brung forth.

Clearing your throat, you take in the eyebrow Armin raises at you, chest shaking with a chuckle. He begins unbuttoning the sleeves of his button up, rolling the fabric up to his elbows with a small smirk. Heart stuttering, you look away from him to collect your thoughts, locking gazes with him once more to finish your rebuttal. “Now because of this, we chose to propose this argument. If the negative were to have taken a closer look at these, I believe they would have taken this into account.” Letting out breath, you nod. “I rest.”

“The negative may now commence with his rebuttal and or defense.”

Armin’s eyes sparkle as he begins, missing their usual gentleness in exchange for a sort of cocky sheen. His hair shifts as he tilts his head at you. “Before I come to my own argument,” he voices, tongue running across his bottom lip while he pauses, “let us first take a look at what the affirmative, our darling angel Y/N, has said.” The only plus of this, you think, is the fact that this is a practice debate. He wouldn’t get told off for any remark he made that had no relevance to the case he’s defending. Laughs spark from around the room, and you see Colt flash a smile at your demise.

Armin shuffles the papers in his hands, nodding as he taps at the page. “I’ll continue our case in a moment, but before that there are some things about the affirmative argument that need to be addressed.” He rests his elbow on the edge of his separate makeshift podium, and begins pointing out flaws and holes in your first remarks that you hadn’t even realized yourself. “They told us that multiple in depth studies show that these methods help students assimilate into the community; but in fast, there are several studies that show the decline of this on students’ journey into the community, as my first speaker already told you.”

Armin continues on, opposing many of the statements you’d made earlier with backup from Reiner’s speech as well. Even when he’s done, giving you your own time to debate the evidence and thoughts that he’d brought to attention, you can feel the energy of the group shifting to support his side. “So, ladies and gentlemen, what have I told you today? Firstly, the affirmative seems to stem their argument off of invalid evidence from a community with other activities and cases aiding university students entry into social life. And second,” he relocks his sights upon you, making direct eye contact with you as he cocks his head at your form, scoffing, “and  _ second _ , that affirmative debater Y/N has not taken the direct steps into this case, as frustratingly stunning as they are, to see the correct results of these studies, to refute our, the negative’s, argument.” Not taking his gaze from yours, he rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, not bothering to conceal his smile. Your cheeks are warm, and this being a practice debate means he can throw in any witty thing he wants without care. “I relinquish the floor to them.

“Second debater?” The moderator, as well as many others, are smiling, and you know boy wonder has won once more. You probably couldn’t dig yourself out if you tried. He had you in all ways, hook, line, and sinker.

Pushing a rush of air past your lips, you cough out a laugh. “I relinquish the floor as well.” 

“I declare this debate officially concluded.”

Another burst of laughs come from varying spots around the room, chairs squeaking against tile as everyone moves around, gathering supplies and bags. Colt claps you on the shoulder, giggles making his shoulders shake. “You, uh, you held your own for awhile, to be fair.”

“Whatever, I lost horribly because of Armin and his stupidly—”

“Stupidly unfair good looks, I’m hoping.” An arm hooks around your shoulders, the smell of warm honey and sea salt encasing you. Leaning your head back against the arm, you roll your eyes when Armin’s face appears above you. “You did good, for your first time with me.” You can feel his words as much as you hear them, already being pulled away from where Colt stands, towards the door. You give one last short wave to the boy before letting Armin tug you forward. 

“You’re annoyingly good at running your mouth is all,” you shoot back, ignoring the gentle click of his teeth he directs towards you in favor of lifting your hand to tangle with the one hanging over your shoulder. He hums, shuffling his feet in time with yours.

He lets a few more teasing words float between you, leading you out the main door of the university to wear he’s got his beat up old car parked. It barely works, the engine giving out sometimes in the middle of the road, the two back windows stuck in their shut position. But it gets him from Point A to Point B, and reminds you so much of its owner that it hurts. Armin keeps those old butterscotch candies in the glovebox, and always has the same Seabreeze air freshener hanging from the rearview. 

Armin follows you to your side, turning you slightly before you can reach for the door. Your back presses into the side, head tilting back to see him properly. “I meant it, you know. You did good today.”

“Still lost.” At the slight pout of his lips, you smile, shaking your head. “Thank you.”

“I’ll just help you prepare next time, yeah?” Pulling you away from the door and into his arms, he sways your bodies slightly, lips pressing against the skin of your forehead. He reaches behind you, pulling the passenger door open for you. Before he lets you go, he smiles, half of his mouth lifting at the sides. 

“I’ll try not to distract you with my stupidly pretty face next time.”

  
  



End file.
